The Shinigami Games
by Dark Mind of the American Teen
Summary: Discontinued. What happens if the bleach characters take the place of the Hunger Games characters? Ruki becomes the Shinigami, a symbol of rebellion.
1. Глава первая Glava pervaya :russian

Origins: What if, The Rambler Sadistic!

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><p>THE SHINGAMI GAMES<br>Original Concept and Original Storyline by Susan Collins  
>Original Characters by Kubo Tite<br>Story by Akke Andringa

The Hunger Games: Bleach style! Rukia Kuchiki and Ichigo are residents of District Twelve- and complete social opposites. Rukia is the younger sibling of a rich government peacekeeper noble and Ichigo is the son poor owner of a small clinic in the slums of the District- the Seam. They live in the country of Rukongai, where the Seireitei Capitol rules. Many decades ago the districts of Rukongai rebelled against the Seireitei Capitol, and every year punishment and a reminder of the Seireitei's power, two tributes from each district must fight other tributes to the death in the Shinigami Games. If one wins the games, they will become as shinigami- a supposed immortal who is flourished with fame, fortune, and adored by the citizens of the Seireitei. What will become of Rukia and Ichigo when they are chosen as tributes, and will they discover there is more to being a tribute than advertized? Find out in the Shinigami Games!

Chapter 1

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><p>"Isn't it exciting?" I squealed, dancing around my brother Byakuya was we watched the television, every channel reminding us that the Shinigami Games were only weeks away. "I can't wait to watch!"<br>This Shinigami Games was very special- it was 49th anniversary of the Great War, which meant that there would be extra surprises in the coming years' Games. "Oh how I wish I could be a tribute~"  
>"No you don't and you won't. I won't allow that."<br>My brother was always had been very protective of me around the time of the Games. I'm sure he had something to do with it- I'm mean likely making sure my name was not on any of the drawing strips at ever reaping since I was 12.  
>"God, Byakuya, I was just trying to cheer you up..." I muttered under my breath.<br>"What was that?"  
>"Nothing!"<br>Byakuya was numb at the time of the Games, even though it had always ran through my birthtime. It way to be expected, his wife, my sister-in-law, had died many years ago on the last day of the games. She was, after all, a girl from the Seam. Seam girls didn't have long life expectantly. Most of them died young prostitutes or were killed for selling themselves for money.  
>The dark cloud that hung over our house at Games time always threatened to ruin the mood on my birthday. This being said, it was my mission to turn Byakuya's frown upside-down. It was my job after all, he had taken me off the streets of the worst of the worst slums of the Seam- Karakurachou when I was only a child If not for him, I would've ended up dead as one of those prostitutes. For this. I owe him my life.<br>I hummed and poured tea as my brother's assistant and my childhood friend, Renji Abarai, entered the room. "Renji! You're back!" I grinned as Renji blushed and Byakuya sighed. Byakuya cleared his throat. "Oh!..H-Here's those papers you needed." Renji handed the papers to him.  
>Before Byakuya had taken me in, Renji and I had lived together in the slums of Karakura. We were both homeless and starving and wouldn't have survived without each other. Him too, I owed my life. Even so, he and I had grown distant since I had moved into Kuchiki stronghold and he had been appointed to a peacekeeper official.<br>But there was no time to waste with Renji. It was time to sneak out now. Sneak into the woods. Where danger lurked behind every tree and Reigaitwel go missing. To meet with my true love.  
>Kaien Shiba. He was my former classmate and first love. Every afternoon I meet him beyond the 80ft wall that guarded Reigaitwel from the outside world, and kept them on the inside. The primary purpose of the fence was that tales of people going missing in these woods and finding only the carcass remaining had circulated to the Seireitei, so they made it illegal to trespass beyond the safety of the fence. And of course, beyond those woods, were the ruins of the fabled District 13...<br>That didn't stop me though. Rumor has it that grotesque beasts with skull-like masses- nicknamed Hollows by people of the underground smuggling unit, the UraharaHob. I was careful. I would do anything to see Kaien.  
>I quickly shimmied under the whole in th fence that Kaien had showed me years earlier, careful not to dirty a purple kimono he had given me. I wore it every day just for this occasion. I was careful not to stray from the wall, following the familiar path to out meeting spot. Kaien's figure came into view. "Kaien!" I ran into his arms, almost tripping but getting back up immediately in my gate. "Kaaaaien!"<br>"Shhhh, Rukia." I froze then. The tone of Kaien's voice was /not/ familiar. "K-Kaien?" I looked at his face. He looked away. "Rukia. We can't do this any longer." He pushed me off him. "I-I don't understand? Why can't we meet?" I grabbed for him like a child; his grip was too firm. "K-Kaien, y-you're hurting me." the tear began to fall. "Rukia. I'm engaged." I just stared at him. "What?" "I getting married to a woman from the seventh district. I'm leaving tomorrow." I fell to my knees. He reached to grab my arm, but his hand fell. "This is goodbye. Arigato, Rukia." "But.." "It was an arranged marriage." he kissed my forehead. I relaxed. "Y-You're just /kidding/, right? Haha, so funny, Kai-" "Rukia."  
>And he left me there to sob my heart out.<p>

I don't know how long I was out, but  
>It felt like I had been still for hours judging by the aching if my muscles I rubbed my eyes. I must of cried myself to sleep. "Finally awake, sleepyhead?" I shot up. Kaien? "You're not.." "Yeah, I'm not your precious 'Kaien, Kaien!'. You were so noisy with your screeching, you scared all my game away!" "Game?..You hunt here?" "Yep. 'Game 'round here make a fine meal." "You trade at the Hob. You hunt...the Hollows?" "<em>Hell<em> no! They're _deadly_!"  
>Awkward silence.<br>"Oh. But it's illegal to hunt." "Yeah it's illegal to jump the fence and stir the whole forest too. Would you rather starve, oh wait, you're one of those rich girls. You don't know the meaning of the word starve." "that's not true! And I crawled under, I didn't jump it!"  
>"Heh, if you jumped that wall, you'd damn crack your spine right down the middle..." He looked up at the sky through a break in the foliage. "you're a whole lot o trouble, yknow? Layin' i a middle a the forest, just waitin ti' be a Hollow's dinner. They nearly got u throat.' " "Y-You saved me from a hollow?" He grinned and looked back at me, then sighed. "Y' a hole lot a troubl' Miss Kuch-I-ki." I stood. "How do y' know my name?" "Y' the daughter of that Kuchiki guy. He's with the Peacekeepers'. They make our lives <em>hell<em>, y'know?" "..He's..He's my brother..About..They...Thank you for..You kno'. By the way.." "..No problem. Well actually, it's kind of a bother, don't do it again. Kurosaki Ichigo." I start my gait. "I won't do it again, Kyuyasari Isago!" "Its Kurosaki Ichigo! And keep it down!" he yelled after me. But i don't hear. My heart is beating too fast. Hell to the o, Ichiho Kirisako.  
>I run home and barely notice my screaming brother, screeching about my unexplained disappearance. When I'm up in my room, I'm not sure whether to cry or laugh about Kaien. For some reason, thinking about the orange haired boy I met in the woods today makes me tingle inside. He was hawt. Why hadn't I run into him before? ..He most likely kept his distance from me beyond the wall for my habit of scaring game, and we didn't socialize at school- school? He did about my age, then again I am very short. But I can't recall his face now- then I realize something. Byakuya- he's smart, he knows when I sneak out I go to Kaien, lord know what he'd do if he found out we met under the wall. So his first impulse would be to blame my extended absence on the blue-eyed Shiba- he'll go strait to castrate- dont tell him i learned such terms at the hob- the man. I don't have much time. But I think, and Byakuya will most likely know of Kaien's predicament (should I really can it that?) before i did; or before Kaien told me. Maybe he could even stop the engagement...So that must of delayed his worrying over my lateness, giving us some to numb. Then again, I didn't know how long I'd been gone. And the kimono was filthy. Curiousor and Curiouser.<p>

PART I: THE TRIBUTE

Its reaping day. That's the first thing that comes to mind when I wake. I can barely contain my excitement as I shoot out of bed, slip my nicest kimono on, and fly down the stairs, nearly blasting through Renji as I speed past him. I throw open the door and shout "Its Reaping Day!" The residents of the Towne Square can only sigh. They are not roused by my enthusiasm.  
>Tonight there will be a great feast that the Government will throw for the tributes of our district before their departure to the Seireitei. Aside from the Mayor, aka Ye Ol' Genriyusai, Byakuya and Renji, Executive of the District 12 and Vice Executive of the District 12, are in charge of the Reaping celebrations. I assist thoroughly with preparations joyfully in anticipation. This feast only happens every 10 years, and the last time I was merely 6, so I am dancing on my toes.<br>It is time for the Reaping. I stand beside my brother on the right of the stage with Renji. The same monotone announcer -Teissai I think his name is- as every year is drawing the name for the girl-ladies first- I lean forward. "And the female tribute for District 12 in these 49th Games is-" Faster, I think. The giant couldn't rustle his hand any longer in there! "-is- _Yuzu Kurosaki!_" I freeze. That surname is familiar- too familiar. Then I instantly know. It's _his_ name. The boy in the woods. The boy who cheered...me up after Kaien left. _Is that what he was doing?_ I cover my mouth with my hands as he plows through the crowd, to the age group where "Yuzu" stands. Ichigo yells "I volunteer to take the place of Kurosaki Yuzu!" Ichigo climes onto stage, his face pale focused. "Hmm, I guess it's okay for a boy to take the place of a girl, as long as another girl is chosen. Your name, boy?" "Ichigo Kurosaki.." Confirmed. It's definitely him, how could anyone not recognize that orange hair? "Okay then, now the female tribute," Ichigo stands on the male tributes' platform. Silence. "And the female tribute for this years Games is- _Rukia Kuchiki!_" gasps emanated throughout the Towne Square. I hear myself squeal. And I watch my feet as they cross the stage and I stand across from Ichigo. I don't dare look at the look back at my brother. I see Ichigo wince, the pain in his face when his glances at me, which is otherwise twisted, anguished, blank. I look to the faces of the crowd- on them I see confusion, shock, but some look monotone, _smug_, happy even. I don't understand. I was so excited in the previous years. My dream to represent my little District Twelve. Now a huge weight bears my shoulders. But realization rises to the surface. Byakuya didn't let me watch the battles of the games. Violent. Too violent. Violence. I must fight for my life- in these Games, that is the objective. To entertain the bloodthirsty Capitol. Is be dead in A week...

rate and review please!


	2. 第2章 Dai 2shō :japanese

Origins: What if, The Rambler Sadistic!

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><p>THE SHINIGAMI GAMES<p>

Disclaimer!:  
><strong>Original Concept and Original Story by Suzanne Collins<strong>**  
><strong>**Original Characters by Kubo Tite**

Story by Akke Andringa

PART 1: THE TRIBUTES

CHAPTER TWO

-for segments of the chapter I'm just copying from the book to make it move more slowly, so the disclaimers right up there ^

-the theme song for this story is divine by t.a.t.u

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><p>The moment the anthem ends, they take us into the feast gallery. No one is in the mood for a feast. I now realize, that no one ever has been. No one wants to celebrate sending their children to their death. My death is absolute. I must face the facts.<br>Once inside, I'm conducted into a room and left alone. I can't help running my finger over the velvet fabric of the couch I am sat on. It helps calm me as I prepare for the hours ahead. The time allotted for the tributes to say goodbye to their loved ones is short. I will first say good bye to Byakuya, and possibly Renji, before I go to die. I do not know if I can even face my brother, let alone Renji. I cannot afford to get upset, to leave this room with puffy eyes and a red nose. Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.  
>Renji comes first. "News. The feast was postponed. The tributes will not attend."<br>"Renji..."  
>''Oh Rukia! How do you always manage to get yourself into these things?" he throws his arms around my neck. He is so much taller than me and hugging me so tight that my feet do not touch the ground.<br>"And now Byakuya can't do anything about it."  
>"You have to win Rukia. You have to come back home. You can't...can't let Byakuya break again. He can't lose you too!"<br>"I know, I know! But I can't win an you know that Renji!"  
>"You have to win Rukia! Your clever- outsmart them, Rukia! You have to try your hardest. Please, for Byakuya...for me." The peacekeepers' call for Renji, and I won't let him go, because I know this is the last time I will see him. He eventually prys me off, and I mouth '<em>thank you<em>' as they take him away. I do not see Byakuya again. He cannot face me. I cannot face him.  
>I get one more unexpected guest. It is the mayor's niece, Lurichiyo, who is a year younger than me and classmate of mine. She is not weepy or evasive, instead there's an urgency about her tone that surprises me. "They let you wear one thing from you district in the arena. One thing to remind you if home. Will you wear this?" She holds out a circular pin that I noticed was on her kimono earlier. I hadn't paid much attention to it before, but I now see it's a small skull-like bird in flight.<br>"Your pin?" I say. Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind.  
>"here, ill put it on your dress, alright?" Lurichiyo doesn't wait for an answer, she just leans in and fixes the bird to my kimono. "Promise you'll wear it in the arena, Rukia-chan?"<br>"Okay.." Lurichiyo gives me a kiss on the cheek. Then she's gone and I'm left thinking that maybe Lurichiyo, if Id attempted to get closer to her, would of made a good friend all along. I wonder what Ichigo had to say to his little sister.  
>Its a short ride from the Justice Hall to the train station. I've been right not to cry. The station is swarming with reporters with their insectlike cameras trained directly on my face. I catch a glimpse of myself on the television screen on the wall that's airing my arrival live and I'm appalled at my expression that almost looks bored.<br>We have to stand for a few minutes in the doorway of the train while the camera gobble up our images, then we're allowed inside and the doors close mercifully behind us. The train begins to move at once.  
>The speed initially takes my breath away. Of course, I've never been on a train, as travel between district is forbidden except for officially sanctioned duties. For District 12, that's mainly transporting coal. But this is no ordinary coal train. It's one of the high-speed Seireitei models that average 250 miles per hour. Our journey to the Capitol will take less than a day.<br>In school, they tell us that the Seireitei was built in a place called the Rookies. District Twelve was in a region known as Appalachia, Even hundreds of years ago, they mined coal here. Which is why our miners have to dig so deep.  
>Somehow it all comes back to coal at school. Besides basic reading and mathematics, most of our instruction is coal-related. Except for the weekly lecture on the history of Rukongai. It's mostly a lot of blather about what we owe the Seireitei. I know there must be more than they're telling us, an actual account of what happened during the rebellion. Although I am the curious type, i don't spend much time thinking about it. Byakuya scolds me not to be nosy. Whatever the truth is, I don't see how it would affect me now.<br>In my room, there are drawers filled the finest clothes, and Terrai Tsukabishi, Tessai's sister who accompanies us, tells me to do whatever I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel of my kimono and take a hot shower. I've never had a shower before. I thought our little spout back home was the luxury of bathing- i never imagined such a machine existed. It's like being in a summer rain, only warmer. I dress in a dark green crop and brown capris.  
>At the last minute, i remember Lurichiyo's little gold pin. For the first time, i get a good look at it. It's as if someone fashioned a small bony golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wing tips. I suddenly recognize it. A mockingjow.<br>They're funny birds and something of a slap in the face to the capitol. During the rebellion, the Seireitei bred a series of genetically altered animals as weapons. The common term for them was _hollowfications_, or sometimes _mutts_ for short. One was a special Hollow-like bird called a jabberjow that had the ability to memorize and repeat whole human conversations. They were homing birds, exclusively make, that were released into regions where the Seireitei's enemies were know to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they'd fly back to centers to be recorded. It took a while to realize what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Seireitei endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centers were shut down and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.  
>Only they didn't die off. Instead, the jabberjows mated with female mockingbirds, creating a whole new species that could replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They had lot the ability to enunciate words but could still mimic a range of human vocal sounds, from a child's high pitched warble to a man's deep tones. And they could recreate songs. Not just a few notes, but whole songs with multiple verses, if you had the patience to sing to them and if they liked you voice.<br>Kaien...was particularly fond of mockingjows. When we went in the woods, he whistle or sing complicated songs to them and, after a polite pause, they'd always sing back. Not everyone is treated with such respect. But when Kaien sang, all the birds in the area would fall silent and listen. His voice was that beautiful, high and clear and so filled with it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. There's something comforting about the little birds. It's like having a piece of my Kaien with. I pains me to think another woman will get to enjoy his melodies. I t was a special thing between him and I. His voice was what i love the most. I fasten the pin onto my shirt, and with the dark green fabric as a background, i can almost imagine the mockingjows flying through the trees.  
>Terrai Tsukabishi comes to collect me for supper. I follow her through the narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room with polished paneled walls. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. Ichigo Kurosaki sits waiting for us, the chair next to him is empty.<br>"Where's Kukaku-san?" asks Terrai Tsukabishi.  
>Kukaku Shiba- a drunken, one-armed lady with breasts-bigger-than-humanly-possible who won the games 25 years ago representing District 12. She failed to make an appearance at the reaping.<br>"Last time I saw her, she said she was going to take a nap," says Ichigo boredly.  
>"Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Terrai Tsukabishi. I think she's relieved by Kukaku's absence, and who can blame her? Assuming she heard the rumors of Kukaku, she was not going to label Kukaku's company as pleasant.<br>The supper comes in courses. A thick carrot soup, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal, Terrai Tsukabishi keeps reminding us to save space because there's more to come. But stuffing myself because even I've never had food like this, so good and so much and I can't stop.  
>"At least you two have decent/ manners," says Terrai as we're finishing the main course. "I heard the pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of /savages/!"  
>The pair last year were two kids from the seam who'd never, not one day of their loves, had Enough to eat. And when they did have food, table manners were surely the last thing on their minds. Byakuya taught Renji and I to eat properly, so yes, I can Handel a Fork and knife very well. But I hate the arrogantness of Terrai Tsukabishi's comment so much I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. Then I wipe my hands on the table cloth. I have truly brought shame onto Byakuya. This makes her purse her lips tightly together. I cannot help be reminded of the hungry nights Renji and I wandered the streets of Karakura, scavenging for our next meal.<br>Now that the meal's over, I'm fighting to keep the food down. I can see Ichigo's looking a little green, too. Neither of our stomachs are used to such _rich_ fare. I determined to keep it down thought. I doesn't help that I ate so much a feel like my pant could pop open at any moment, and suddenly my clothes feel extremely suffocating and I feel a huge wait dragging me down. I feel intensely sluggish and fat, and body is tight and won't move normally. I manage to walk.  
>We go to another compartment to watch the reaping across Rukongai. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that, since none of the have to attend reapings themselves.<br>One by one we see the reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We dazedly examine the faces of the kids who will be our competition. Only a few stand out in my mind, a small girl who looks Ichigo's little sisters age, and very much reminds me of Lurichiyo. When she mounts the stage and they ask for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There's no one willing to take her place. They showed District 12 first. Yuzu Kurosaki being called. Kurosaki Ichigo running forward to volunteer. Kurosaki, the name sounds very familiar to me, but I can't pinpoint it. I see myself wobble across the stage. The commentators are not sure what to say about the crowd refusal to applaud. The silent salute the brave ones give me. One says that District 12 has always been a bit backward but that local customs can be charming.  
>The only other reaping that makes an impression is District 7. I sure I'm absolutely sure I'm mistaken, but I hear the Tsukabishi speak Kaien's name, and then his face flashes across the screen and I panic. I don't understand how Kaien could be called as the District 7 tribute, for he is Inuzuri."Well, f<em>uck<em>," grumbles Kukaku.  
>She materializes from the hall and had made Terrai jump. "What's wrong?" Terrai squeaks."It's my brother!"<br>"What?"  
>"That rat bastard, Kaien Shiba, is my little brother."<br>"Oh my."  
>Kukaku Shiba. Kaien Shiba. Clear as day. Kukaku's brother had moved to district 7 to marry his fiancé and very unluckily been called at the reaping of that district.<br>I try to stay calm. "is that is fiancé?" he is holding hands with the female tribute who looks about 15. "No, I believe that's Miyako's younger sister."  
>So I'm assuming Miyako is Kaien's fiancé. Miyako... All these name sound so familiar.<br>"Poor Miyako.." Terrerai whispers.  
>"<em>Damn!"<em> Ichigo whistles.  
>Kukaku glares at him.<br>I fall into a trance as the rest of the reaping blow by and the lump in my abdomens gets larger, and finally the anthem blares out, and the program ends. Terrai- Tsukabishi is disgruntled by the state her cornrows were in.  
>"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. I've witnessed her past televised behavior.<br>Ichigo unexpectedly laughs. He's been quiet since the reaping. Then again, I haven't spoken a word. "She's a drunk." he says. "He's fucking drunk every single year!"  
>"You need to watch your mouth, young man-" Terrai says.<br>"Drunk every day," I add. I can't help smirking a little. Terrai make it sound like Kukaku somewhat just has rough manners that could be corrected with a few tips from her. "Yes, she hisses. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Kukaku-san can very well be the difference between your life and death!  
>Just then, Kukaku on cue again staggers back into the room. "Oh, did I miss the supper?" she says ib an extremely slurred, barely understandable speech. She is miraculously already drunk again. Then she vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls into the mess.<br>"So laugh away!" says Terrai. She hops I. Her pointy shoes around the pool of bile and flees the room.


	3. Τρίτο κεφάλαιο Tríto kefálaio :greek

THE SHINIGAMI GAMES

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><p>CHAPTER THREE<br>to kill me.

For a few moments, Ichigo and I take in the scene of our mentor trying to rise out of the slippery vile stuff from his stomach. The reek of vomit and raw spirits threatens to bring my binge up. We exchange a glance. Obviously Kukaku isn't much, but Teirrai is right about one thing, once we're in the arena she's all we've got. As if by some unspoken agreement, Ichigo and I, reluctantly, take one of Kukaku's limbs and help her to her feet."I tripped?" Kukaku asks. "Smells bad." she wipes her hand on her nose, smearing her face with vomit.  
>"Let's get you back to your room," says Ichigo. "Clean you up a bit."<br>We half-lead half-carry Kukaku back to her compartment. Since we can't exactly set her down on the expensive embroidered bedspread, we haul her into the bath tub and turn the shower on her. She hardly notices.  
>"It's okay," Ichigo tells me. "I'll take it from here."<br>I can't help feel grateful since the last thing I want to do is bathe the full grown woman of vomit and tuck her in. Possibly Ichigo is trying to make a good impression on her, to be her favorite once the games begin. But judging but the state she's in, Kukaku will have no memory of this tomorrow.  
>Or perhaps Ichigo is pervert and wants to see the whore naked.<br>"_All right_," I say. "I can...send one of the Capitol people to help you." There's any number on the train. Cooking for us. Waiting on us. Guarding us. Taking care of us is their job. "No. I don't want them." says Ichigo.  
>I nod and slug to my own room. I understand how Ichigo feels. I can't stand the sight of the Seireitei people myself. But making the deal with the sight of Kukaku might be a small form of revenge. So I'm pondering the reason why he insists on taking care of Kukaku and all of the sudden I think, <em>it's because he's being kind.<em>  
>The ideal pulls me up short. A kind Ichigo Kurosaki is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there. And I can't let Ichigo do this. Not where we're going. So I decide, from this moment on, to have as little as possible to do with the doctor's son. But I have so much I want to talk with him about.<br>For a while I stand staring out the train window, wishing I could open it, but unsure of what would happen at such high speed. In the distance, it see the lights of another district. 6? 10? I don't know. The speed starts to make me dizzy and I gag, so I step away from the window.  
>I think of the people in their houses, settling in for bed. I imagine my home, with its shutters drawn tight. What are they doing now, Renji and Byakuya, my only family? Were they able to eat supper? Or does it lie untouched on their plates? Did they watch the day's events on our TV? Surly, there were tears. Is Byakuya holding up?<br>Imagining my home makes me ache with loneliness. This day has been endless. Could Renji and I been eating the blackberries I snuck him? It seems like life deteriorated into a nightwear. Maybe, if I go to sleep, I will wake up back in District 12, where I belong.  
>Probably the drawers hold any number of nightgowns, but I just strip every article of clothing off and attempt into the poofy bed. But as soon as I bend over, a preposterous amount of vomit shoots back up throat and I sprint for the bath room. After upping everything I had eaten for the last two days and hanging my face over the toilet for an hour, I rinse my mouth ferociously.<br>I slip into bed feeling extremely defeated, but the sheets are made of soft, silky fabric much finer than the ones back home. The immediate warmth the thick comforter gives me a moment of relaxation.  
>If I'm going to cry, now is the time to do it. By morning, I'll be able to wash away the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or to numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion, praying there's nothing left in my system to come up with the vibration of vehicle.<br>Gray light is leaking through the curtains when the raping rouses me. I hear Terrerai's voice, calling me to rise. "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" I try to imagine, for a moment, what it must be like inside that woman's head. What thoughts fill her waking hours? What dreams come to her at night? I have no idea.  
>I get up and rinse of, scrubbing the grimy feeing from last night. I put the green outfit back on since it's not really dirty, just crumpled from spending the night on the floor. My fingers trace the circle around the little gold mockingjow and I think of Kaien, and of Renji and Byakuya waking up, , having to get on with things. I run my fingers through my hair and it returns to its usual bob. I Fidel with it, but it doesn't matter. We can be far from the Seireitei now. And once we reach the city, my stylist will dictate my look for the opening ceremonies tonight anyway. I just hope I get one who doesn't think nudity in the last word in fashion.<br>As I enter the dining car. Terrerai brushes by me with a cup of black coffee. She's muttering obscenities under her breath. Kukaku, her face puffy and red from the previous day's indulgences, is chuckling. Ichigo holds a roll and looks somewhat embarrassed.  
>"Sit down! Sit down!" says Kukaku, waving me over. The moment I slide into my chair, I'm served an enormous amount of food. Eggs, ham, piles of friend potatoes. A tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep chilled. The basket of rolls they set before me would keep us going for a day. There's an elegant glass of orange juice. At least, I think it's orange juice. I've only even tasted orange juice once, one new years when Byakuya brought this special treat. A cup of coffee. My brother adores coffee, but it only tastes bitter and thin to me. Also, a rich brown cup of something I've never seen.<br>"They call it hot chocolate," says Ichigo. "It's good."  
>I take a sip of the hot, sweet, creamy liquid and a shudder runs through me. Even thought the rest of the meal beckons, i ignore it until I've drained my cup. Then I stuff my face, but being careful not to overdo it on the richest stuff. Still I am binging thoroughly, and I know I will regret it later. I can't help myself. This food is almost addicting. Byakuya tells me that I always eat like I'll never see food again. It's true.<br>When my stomachs on the very edge of the precipice of exploding, I lean back and take in my breakfast companions. Ichigo is still eating, breaking of bits of bread and dipping them in hot chocolate, giving me questioning looks every now and then. I doubt he is anywhere close to finished. Kukaku hasn't paid much attention to his platter, but she's knocking back and forth a glass of red juice that she keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it's some kind of spirit. I don't know Kukaku, but I've see her often enough around the Urahara Shoten, tossing around handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. She'll be incoherent by the time we reach the Seireitei.  
>I realize I detest Kukaku. No wonder the District 12 tributes never stand a chance. It isn't just that we've been underfed and lack training. Some of our tributes have still been strong enough to make a go of it. But we rarely get sponsors and she's a big part of the reason why. The rich people who back tributes- either because they're betting on them or simply for the bragging rights of picking a winner- expect someone classier than Kukaku to deal with.<br>"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I say to Kukaku.  
>"Here's some advice. Stay alive!" says Kukaku, and bursts out laughing. I exchange a look with Ichigo before I remember I'm having nothing to do with him. I'm surprised to see the hardness in his eyes. Other times he looked generally mild.<br>"That's very funny," says Ichigo. Suddenly he lashes out at the glass in Kukaku's hand. It shatters on the floor, sending the bloodred liquid running toward the back if the train. "_Only not to us."_  
>Kukaku considers this a moment, then lands Ichigo in the jaw, knocking him from his chair. When she turns back to reach for the spirits, I drive my knife into the table between her hand and the bottle, barely missing her fingers. I brace myself to deflect her hit, but it doesn't come. Instead she sits back and squints at us.<br>"Well what's _this_?" says Kukaku. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"  
>Ichigo rises from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He mutters something about letting a old bitch get a hit on him and starts to raise the ice to red mark on his jaw.<br>"No," says Kukaku, stopping him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it into the arena. ""That's against the rules, bitch." says Ichigo.  
>"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better," says Kukaku. She turns to me. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"<br>I realize if I want Kukaku's attention, this is my moment ti' make a good impression. I have pretty good arm strength...I yank the knife out of the table, get a grip on the blade, and then try it stick the wall across the room. I had just been praying for the luck to just to get a good solid stick, but it lodges in the seam between two panels, making me look /way/ better than I ever could be.  
>Ichigo raises his eyebrows. Really high.<br>"Stand over here. Both of you," says Kukaku, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces.  
>"Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."<br>Ichigo and I don't question this. The Hunger Games aren't a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. "And woo-wee, look at this hair of yours!" says Kukaku to Ichigo. "Nice build too." she examines me closer. "Young, chubby in the round. They'll have to smooth you out. Flat-chested too." I blush and lower my head as she traces her finger around my plump belly and hips. "Shaping out yet." "All right, I'll make a deal with you. You dint interfere with my drinking, I'll stay sober enough to help you," says Kukaku. "But you have to do exactly as I say."  
>It's not much of a deal but still a giant step forward from ten minutes ago when we had no guide at all.<br>"Fine," says Ichigo.  
>"So help us," I demand. I say the first issue that comes to mind. "When we get to the arena, what's the strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"<br>"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put on the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist," says Kukaku.  
>"But-" I begin.<br>"No buts! Don't resist." says Kukaku. She takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but it's as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Seireitei and the eastern district. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. The geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains, they were easy targets for the Seireitei's air forces.  
>Ichigo Kurosaki and I stand in silence the train speeds along. The tunnel goes on and on and I think of the tons of rock separating me from the sky, and my chest tightens. I hate being encased in stone this way.<br>The train finally begins to slow and suddenly bright light floods the compartment. We can't help it. Both Ichigo and I race to the window to see what we've only seen on television, the Seireitei, the ruling city of Rukongai. The cameras haven't lied about it's grandeur. If anything, they have not quite captured the magnificence of the glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues that tower into the air, the sleek, shiny cars that roll down the wide paved streets, the oddly dressed round and angular people with bizarre hair and painted faces who have if not missed never a meal, have had much greater servings. All the colors seem so artificial, the pinks too deep, the greens to bright, the yellows painful to the eyes, like the flat dicks of hard candy that we can rarely afford to buy at the tiny sweet shop in District 12.  
>The exotic people begin to point at us eagerly as they recognize a tribute train rolling into the city. I step away from the window, sickened by their excitement, knowing they can't wait to watch us die. But Ichigo, masking a hint of distaste, holds his ground, actually waving and smiling at the gawking crowd. He only stops when the train pulls into the station, blocking us from their view.<br>He sees me staring at him and shrugs. "Who knows?" he says. "Of of them may be rich."  
>I had misjudged him. I think of his actions since the reaping began. Looking pained and sympathetic. The friendliness. Volunteering to wash Kukaku up but then challenging her this morning when apparently the nice-guy approach had failed. And now the waving at the window, already trying to win the crowd. Along with his orange hair, he could fit in perfectly with the vibrant people of this crude city.<br>All of the pieces are still fitting together, but I sense he has a plan forming. He hasn't accepted his death. Je is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind and corky Ichigo Kurosaki, the boy who comforted me after I lost Kaien, is fighting hard to kill me.

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	4. Hoofdstuk vier :dutch

CHAPTER FOUR

_Ri-I-I-p!_ I grit my teeth as Kiyone Kotetsu, a short woman with blonde cropped hair and thick, tattooed eyebrows, yanks a strip of fabric from my arm, tearing out the hair beneath it. "Sorry!" she pipes in her silly Capitol accent. "You're just _so _hairy!"  
>Why do these people speak on such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words an always a hiss on the letter <em>s<em>...no wonder it's _impossible_ not to mimic them.  
>Kiyone makes what's supposed to be a sympathetic face. "Good news, though. This is the last one. Ready?" I get a grip on the edges of the table I'm seated on and nod. The final swathe of my body hair is uprooted in a painful jerk.<br>I've been in the Remake Center for more than three hours and I still haven't met my stylist. Apparently he has no interest in seeing me until Kiyone and the other members of my prep team have addressed some obvious problems. This has included scrubbing down my body with a gritty foam that has removed not only dirt but at least three layers of skin, turning my nails into more uniform shapes, and primarily, ridding my boy of hair. My legs, arms, torso, Underarms, bikini area, and parts of my eyebrows have been stripped of the stuff, leaving me like a plucked bird, ready for roasting. I don't like it. My skin feels sore and tingling and intensely vulnerable. But I have kept my side of the bargain with Kukaku, and no objection has crossed my lips.  
>"You're doing very well!" says some guy named Sentaro Kotsubaki. He gives his orange-stripped corkscrew Afro a shake and applies a fresh coat of purple lipstick to his pouty mouth. "If there's one thing we can't stand, it's a <em>whiner<em>. Grease her down!"  
>Kiyone and Orihime Inoue, a long, round woman whose painful oversized breasts that jiggle every time she moves, which <em>must<em> have been surgically altered many a time, rub me down with a lotion that first stings but then soothes my raw skin. Then they pull me from the table, removing the thin robe I've been allowed to wear off and on. I stand there, face red, completely naked, as the three circle me, wielding tweezers to remove any last bits of hair.  
>The three step back and Admire their work. "Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" says Sentaro, and they all laugh.<br>I force my lips up into smile to show how _grateful_ I am. _"Thank You_." I say sweetly. "We dint have much cause to look nice in District 12." it's true. I'm like one of the boys (probably from all those years in Renji's gang) it my cleanliness. I loved to play in the dirt and wasn't a lover of the classy kimonos Byakuya made me wear.  
>This wins them over completely. "Of course, you don't, you <em>poor<em> darling! says Orihime, clasping her hands together in distress for me.  
>"But don't worry," says Kiyone. "By the time Ishida is through with you, you're going to be absolutely <em>gorgeous!<em>"  
>"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all!" says Sentaro encouragingly. "Let's call Ishida."<br>They dart out of the room. It's hard to hate my Oreo team too much. They're such total idiots. And yet, in an odd way, I know they're sincerely trying to help me.  
>O look at the cold walls and floor and resist the impulse to retrieve my robe. But this Ishida, my stylist, will surely make me remove it at once. Instead my hands go up to my hair, the one area of my body my prep team did not touch. My fingers stroke my jet black, silky strands, which I prefer to feel mucky.<br>The door opens and a young man who must be Ishida enters. I'm taken aback by how normal he looks. Most. Of the stylists they interview on television at so dyed, stenciled, and surgically altered they're grotesque. But Ishida's close-cropped hair appears to be it's natural shade of black. He's dressed in a simple white shirt and pants. The only concession to self-alteration seems to be metallic blue eyeliner that has been applied with a light hand. It brings out the flecks of gold in his blue eyes...so them again, they must be contacts behind his silver eyeglass frames. And, dispute my disgust with the Seireitei and their hideous fashions, I can't help thinking how attractive he looks.  
>"Konichiwa, Rukia-chan. I'm Uryu Ishida, your stylist," he says in a quiet voice somewhat lacking in the Seireitei's affections.<br>"Hello.." I venture cautiously.  
>"Just give me a moment, all right?" he asks. He walking around my nude body, gracing my skin and tracing my body, taking in every in with his hands and eyes. He traces under my stomach repeatedly, and I squeak; I am now turning several shades of pink.<br>"Oh. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."  
>"Its okay.."<br>I had expected someone flamboyant, someone older desperately trying to look young, someone who viewed me as a piece of meat to be prepared for a platter. Ishida has net none of these expectations.  
>"You're new, aren't you? I don't think I've seen you before," I say. Most of the stylists are familiar, constants in the ever-changing pool of tributes. Some have been around my whole life.<br>"Yes, this is my first year in the Games," says Ishida.  
>"So they gave you District 12," I say. Newcomers generally ended up with us, the least desirable District.<br>"I asked for District Twelve," he says with no further explanation. "Why don't you put your robe on and we'll have a chat."  
>Pulling on my robe, I follow him through a door into a sitting room. Two red couches face off over a low table. Three walls are blank, the fourth is entirely glass, providing a window to the city. I can see by the light that it must be around noon, although the sunny sky has turned overcast. Ishida invites me to sit on one of the couches and takes his place across from me. He presses a button on the side of the table. The top splits and from blow rises a second table top that holds our lunch. I am drooling. Chicken and chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, rolls shaped like flowers, and for dessert, a pudding the color of honey.<br>My mind crazes for the food, although I ate at least two days worth of fat this morning, my stomach takes over. I start planning out my meal in my head, what order can I eat this, should I dip this in that sauce?  
>Once I've calmed and finished plotting, Ishida gestures to begin and I dive. I think as I stuff my throat, what must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button? How I would spend my waking hours seated on this table, repeatedly consuming every delicacy in Rukongai, eating the days away, and giving had outs to the children of Katakura? Or am I too selfish for that. I won't lie to myself, I when I see food, I don't share it. I give Renji, Byakuya, and I unfair servings at dinnertime and sneak extra for myself up to my room, I sneak in the kitchen in the middle of the night. I never give food to the starving children sprawled in the alleys. We barely have enough food as it is, would I be willing to give that extra roll I've hid away? No. I am just as despicable as the Seireitei clones.<br>I look up from my plate and find Ishida's eyes trained on mine. "We despicable we must seem to you." he says.  
>Has he seen my face or somehow read my thoughts? He's right, though. The whole rotten lot of them, including myself, is despicable.<br>"No matter," say Ishida. "So, Rukia-chan, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Jackie Tristan, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Ichigo-kun. And our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes," says Ishida. "As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district."  
>For the opening ceremonies, you're supposed to wear something that suggests your districts principal industry. District 11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories. This means that coming from District 12, Ichigo and I will be in some kind of coal miners get up. Since the baggy miners jumpsuits are not particularly becoming, our tributes usually end up in skimpy outfits and hats with headlamps. One year, our tributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust. It's always dreadful and does nothing to win favor with the crowd. I prepare myself for the worst.<br>"So, I'll be in a coal miner outfit?" o ask, hoping it won't be indecent.  
>"Not exactly. You see, Jackie and I think that coal miner things been very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we see it as our job to make the District Twelve tributes unforgettable," says Ishida.<br>_I'll be naked for sure_, I think. I suck my tummy in.  
>"So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the actual coal," says Ishida.<br>_Naked and covered in black dust,_ I think.  
>"And what do we do with coal? We burn it," says Ishida. "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Rukia?"<p>

-little bit of ishiruki for fan service  
>-while writing the district 13 arc, it completely keeps reminding me of the city of ember movie. I liked that movie.<p>

Character Profiles:

Rukia Kuchiki  
>-Rukia grew up scavenging streets of Karakurachou with Renji Abarai<br>- she's pure tomboy, and doesn't like being lady-like  
>-she prefers to eat more than anything, but was quite playful and mischievous<p>

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	5. פרק חמישי :hebrew

chapter 5

A few hours later, I am dressed in what will either be the most sensational or the deadliest costume in the history if the hunger games' opening ceremonies. I'm in a simple black unitard that covers me from ankle to neck. Shiny leather boots lace up to my knees. But it's the fluttering cape made of streams of orange, yellow, and red and the matching headpiece that define this costume.  
>Ishida plans to light them on fire just before our chariots roll into the streets.<br>"it's not real flame, of course, just a little synthetic fire Jackie and I came up with. You'll be perfectly safe," he says. But I'm not convinced I won't be perfectly barbecued by the time we reach the citys center.  
>My face is realitively clear of makeup, just a but of highlighting here and there. My hair was the same as always, practically the only style it's capeable of being in, the bob, but ishida changed his mind at the last moment and braided it into buns on the sides of my head. "I want the audience to recgonize you when you're in the arena," says Ishida dreamily. "Rukia, the girl who was on fire."<br>It crosses mind that Ishida's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.  
>Despite this morings relevation about Ichigos character, I acctually shows up, dressed in a modified identically costume. His stulist, Jackie, and her team accompany him, and everyone is absolutlely giddy with excitement over what a splash we'll make. Except Ishida. He seams a bit weary ad he accepts congratulations. We're wisked down to the bottom level of the Remake center, Which is essentialy a gigantic stable. The openning ceromonies are about to start. Pairs of tributes are being lined loaded into chariots pulled by teams of four horses. Outs are coal black. The animals are so well trained, no one even needs to guide their reins. Ishida and Jackie direct us into the chariot and carefully arrange out body positions, the drape of our capes, before moving off to consult with each other.<br>I have really talked to Ichigo since..well I haven't really talked to Ichigo at all ever, and despite my earlier statement, I don't like to keep silent and the air is so stale and perfect to make conversation. Sometimes, I can be a bit chatty. But there's never anyone or anything to talk about.  
>Ichigo looks particuarlly anoied and bored.<br>"What do you think?" I whisper to him. "About the fire?"  
>"Ill rip of your cape if you tip off mine," he says through gritted teeth half-hearyedly.<br>The image of ripping off his clothes forms in my my head.  
>"Deal," I mange to sqeak.<br>Maybe, if we can get out capes off soon enough, we'll avoid the worst burns. It's bad though. They'll throw us into the arena no matter what condition were in.  
>"I know we promised Kukaku we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think she considered this angle."<br>"Where is Kukaku, anyway? Isn't she supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?" grumbles Ichiho.  
>"With all that alchol in her, it's probably not advisable to have her around an open flame," I say.<br>And suddenly were both laughing. We get some looks from the other tributes; we ignore them. I guess were both so nervous about the Games were and more pressingly, petrified of being turned into human torches, were not acting sensibly.  
>The opening music begins. It's easy to hear, blastsed around the Seireitei. Massive doors slide open revealing the crowd-lined streets. The ride lasts about twenty minutes and ends up at the City Circle, where they will welcome us, pplay the anthem, and escort us into the training Center, which will be our homeprison until the games begin.  
>The tributes from District 1 ride out in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses. They looks so beatiful, spray-painted silver, in taste full tunics glittering with jewels. District 1makes luxury items for the Seireitei. They are always faverites.<br>District 2 gets into position to follow them. In no time at all, we are approaching the door and I can seethay between the overcast sky and evening hour the light is turning gray.  
>"Nevous?" I ask Ichigo.<br>"Hardly, sweatheart."  
>"Heh," I look to my side. But I am hidding my pink blush.<br>The tribute from District 11 arejust rolling out when Ishida appears with a lighted torch. "Here we go then," he says, and before we can react, he sets our capes on fire. I gaso, waiting for the heat, but there Is only a faint tickling sensation. Ishida climes up before us and ignites our headresses. He let's out a sigh if relief. It works. He was still, not amused by our lack is faith in ihim. Then he gently tucks a hand unde my chin. "remember, heads hig! Smiles! They're going to love you!"  
>Ishifa jumps off the chariot and has one last idea. He shouts something up at us, bit the music drowns him our. He shouts again and gestures.<br>"Whats he saying? I ask Ichigo. For the first time, I look at him and realize tat ablaze with the fake flames that match his orange hair, he is dazzeling. And I must be, to.  
>"I think he said for us to hold hands," days Ichigo. Before I can comprehend this, he grabs my right hand ib his left and heat shoots through me, and we look to Ishida for conformation.<br>He nods and gives a thumbs-up, and that's the last thing we see before we enter the city.  
>The crowds intitial alarm at our apperance quickly changes to cheers and shouts of "District Tweleve!" Every head is turned our way, pulling the focus from the three chariots ahead of us. At first, i'm frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large televison screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces. We seem to to be leaving a train of fire off the flowing capes. Ishida was right about the minimal makeup, we both look more attractive but utterly recognizeable.<br>_Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you_. I hear Ishidas voice in my head. I lift my chin a bit higher, put on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand. . I'm glad now I have Ichigo to clutch for balacne he is so steady, solide as a rock. As I gain confidence, I acctually begin blowing kisses to the crowd. The people of the Seireitei are going nuts, showering us with flowers, shouting our names, our given names, which they have bothered to find on the program.  
>The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can't surpressed my excitement. I am ablaze. I am a star. Ishida has given me a great advantage. No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Rukia. The only name that is acctually mine. Rukia. The girl who was on fire.<br>For the first time, I feel a flicker of hope rising up in , there must be a sponsor willing to take me on! And with a little extra help, some food, the right weapon, why should I count myself out of the games?  
>Someone throws me a red rose. I catch it, give it a delicate sniff, and blow a kiss back in the general direction of the giver. A hundred hands reach up to catch my kiss, as if it were a real and tangible thing.<br>"Rukia! Rukia!" I can hear my name being called from all sides. Everyone wants my kisses.  
>It's not until we enter the City Circle that i forgot about the boy next to me whose hand i was was grasping and I realize I must of completely stopped the circulation in Ichigos hand. That's how tightly I've been holding it. I look down at our linked fingers and loosen my grasp, but he regains his grip on me. "No, don't let go of my hand," he says. The firelight flickers of his amber eyes that blend with the flame along with his hair. "Just don't let go."<br>"Okay," I say. So I keep holding, but so to tightly this time, and I feel the warmth of his body raidaiting so close to me. Aside from the tingling feeling ofhis closeness, can't help feeling strange about the way Ishida has linked us together. It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us in the arena to kill eachother.  
>I don't ever want to kill anyone, let alone the boy sitting next to me. The boy I neve noticed since before the reaping. But Renjis words resonate though my skull. <em>You <em>have _to win, Rukia._  
>Can I win? Do u want to win? Living the rest of my life bearingthe weight of twenty-three souls on my shoulders? Maybe I can be evasive, like Renji said. I can let the other tributes kill eachother, an rise from the shadows after th blood bath. I doubt that tactic will work for long.<br>My thoughts are interupted as the twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle. On the buildings that surround the Circle, every window is packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Our horses pull our chariot right up to President Aizen's mansion, and we come to a halt. The music ends with a flourish.  
>The president, Aizen Sosuke, a built, tall man with curly brown hair, thick square rimed eyeglasses, and calm, Erie, extremely fake smile that he plastered on 247. He gives the official welcome from a balcony above us. It is traditional to cut away to cut away to the faces of the tributes during the speech. But u can see on the screen that we are getting way mor than our share of airtime. The darker it becomes, the more difficult it is to take your eyes of our flickering. When the national anthem plays, they do make an effort to do a quick cut around to each pair of tributes , but the camera holds on District 12 chariot as it parades around the circle one final time and disappears intot he Training Center.  
>The doors have only just shut behind us when we're engulfed by the prep teams, who are nearly unintelligible as they babble out praise. As I glance arround, I notice a whole lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which conforms what Ive suspected, we've litterally outshone them all. Then Ishida and Jackie are there, helping us down from the cahriot, carefully removing our flaming capes and headdresses. Jackie extinguishing them with some kind of spray from a canister.<br>I realize I'm still glued to Ichigo and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands, embarrades. "Thanks for keepinhg hold of me."  
>"Yeah.."<br>"I was pretty shaky there. But of courese the crowds didn't notice anything but you. You were dazzeling. Youshoukd wear flames more often," he says. "They suit you." "Then set me on fire every now and then," I say. And then he gives me a smile taht seems so genuinly sweet with just the right touch of shyness taht unexpected warmness rushes through me.  
>A warning bell goes off in my head. <em>Dont be so stupid. Ichigobis planning how to kill you, <em>I remind myself. _He is luring you in to make you easy prey. The more likeable he is, the more deadly he is._  
>But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right in his bruise.<p> 


	6. 6 장으로 6 jangeulo :korean

CHAPTER SIX  
>The Training Center gas a tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. This will be our home until the acctual Games begin. Each district has an entire floor. You simply step onto an elevator and press the number of your district. Easy enough to remember.<br>Tve ridden the elevator a few times in the Justice Building back in District 12. A few times with Byakuya and Renji and after the reaping. But that's a dark and creaky thing that moves like a snail and smells if sour milk. The walls of this elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air. It's exhilarating, and all though Im woosy and resist the urge to hold onto Ichigo, I'm tempted to ask Teirrai Tsukabishi if we can ride it again, but somehow that seems childish.  
>Apparently, Teirrai Tsukabishis duties did not conclude at the station. She and Kukaku will be overseeing us right into the arena. In a way, that's a plus because at least she can be counted on to corral us arround to places on time whereas we gabby see Kukaku since she agreed to stay sober. Probably passed out somewhere. Teirrai Tsukabishi, on the other hand, seems to be flying high. Were the first team she's eve chaperoned that made a splash at the opening ceromonies. She's complimenttary about not just our costumes but how we conducted ourselves. And, to hear he tell it, Terrai knows everyone who's anyone in the Capitol and has been talking us up all day, trying to win us sponsors.<br>"I've been very mysterious, though?" she says, he'd eyes squint half shut. "Because of course, Kukaku hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Ichigo 'sacrificed himself' for his sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your District.  
><em>Barbarism?<em> Thats affensive, and ironic coming from a woman helping to prepare us for slaughter. And what's she basing our success on? Our table manners?  
>"Everyone has their reserations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was wrt clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you out enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!' " Teirrerai beams at us so brilliantly that we have no choice to respond enthusiastically to her cleverless even though her facts are completely outrageous.<br>Coal doestn turn to pearls they grow in shellfish. Possibly she meant coal turns to dimonds, but Thats not true either. Coal is coal. I've heard they have some sor of machine in District 1 that can turn graphite into diamonds. But we don't mine graphite in District 12. That wad part of District 13's job until they were destiyed.  
>I wonder if the people she's been plugging us to all day eitherknow or care.<br>"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Kukaku can do that," says Teirrerai grimly. "But don't worry, I'll get her to the table at gun point if nessisary."  
>Although lacking in many departments, Teirrerai Tsukabishi has a certain determination I have to admire.<br>My quarters are larger than our entire house back home. They are plush, like the train car, bur also have so many automatic gadgets that I'm sure I won't have time to press all the buttons. The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options you can choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massanging sponges. When you step out on a mat, heaters come on that blow-dry your body. Instead of struggling with the knots in my wet hair, I merely place my hand on a box that sends a current through my scap, untangling, parting, and drying my hair almost instantly. It floats down around my shoulders in glossy curtain.  
>I program the closet for an outfit to my taste. The windows zoom in and out on parts of the city at my command. You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouth piece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less than a minute. I plan to eat everything on this gigantic menu one by one. I walk around the room shoving something called something called 'pizza' down my throat until there's s knock on the door. Terrerai is calling ne to dinner.<br>Excelent. I'm starving.  
>Ichigo, Ishida, and Jackie are standing out on a balcony that overlooks the Seireitei when we enter the dining room. I'm glad to see the stylists, particuarly after I hear that Kukaku will be joining us. A meal preside over by just Teirrerai and Kukaku is bound to be a disaster. Besides, dinner isn't about food (well it's a lot about food from my point of view) it's about planning out our strategies, Ishida and Jackie have already proven hoe valuable they are.<br>A silent young man dressed in a white tunic offers us all stemmed glasses of wine. I think about turning it down, but I've never had wine, and when will I get the chance to try it again?  
>Kukaku shows up just as dinner is being served. It looks as if she's had her own stylist because she's clean and groomed and about as sober as i've ever seen him. She doesn't refuse the offer of wine, but when she starts in on hher soup, I realize it's the first time I've ever seen him eat. Maybe she really will pull herself together long enough to help us.<br>Ishida and Jackie seem to have a civilizing effect on Kukaku and Teirrerai. At least they're addressing each other decently. And they both have nothing but praise for our stylists' opening act. While they make small talk, I concentrate on the meal. Mushroom soup, bitter greens with tomatoes the size of peas, rare roast beef sliced as thin as paper, noodles in a green sauce, cheese that melts on your tounge served with sweet blue grapes. The servers, alll young people dressed in white tunics like the one who gave us the wine, move wordlessly to and from the table, keeping the platters and glasses full.  
>About halfway through my glass of wine, my head starts feeling foggy,, so I change to water instead. I don't like the feeling and hope it wears off soon. How Kukaku can stand walking around like this full-time is a mystery.<br>I try to focus on the talk, which has turned to out interview costumes, when a girl sets a goregeous-looking cake on the table and deftly lights it. It blazes up and then the flames flicker around the edges awhile until it finally goes out. I have a moment of doubt. "What makes it burn? Is it alchol?" I say, looking us at the girl. "Oh-I/ know you!/"  
>I can't place a name or time to the girls face. But I'm certain of it. The dark red hair, the striking features, the porceilan white skin. But even as I utter the words, I feel my insides contracting with anxiety and guilt at the sight of her, and while I can't pull it up, I know some bad memory I'd associated with her. The expression of terror that crises her face only adds to my confusion and unease. She shakes her head in denial quickly and hurries away from the table.<br>When I look back, the four adults are watching me like halks.  
>"Dont be ridiculous/, Rukia-chan. How could you possibly know an / Avox/?" snaps Teirrerai. "The very /thought/!"  
>"Whats an Avox?" I ask stupidly.<br>"Someone who commited a crime. They cut her toungue so she can't speak," says Kukaku. "Shes probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd knownher."  
>"And even if you did/, you're /not/ to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order," says Teirrerai. "Of course, you don't really know her."  
>But I do know her. And now that Kukaku has mentioned the word traitor/ I remember from where. The disaproval is so high I could never admit it. "No, I guess not, I just-" I stammer, and the wine is not helping.  
>Ichigo snaps his fingers. "Mareyo Omaeda! That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Mareyo-chan."<br>Mareyo Omaeda is a cheeky faced, pink girl with hazel hair looks aboutas much like our server as a snake does a butterfly. She may also be the friendliest person on the planet- she smiles constantlyat everybody in school, that it's so annoying. I've wondered how she can be so cheery all the time. And I have never seen the girl with the red hair smile. But I jump on Ichigos suggestion gratefully. "Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair," I say.  
>"Something about the eyes, too," says Ichigo.<br>The energy at the table relaxes. "Oh well. If that's all it is," says Ishifa. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut."  
>We eat the cake and move into a sitting room to watch the replay of the openning ceremonies that's being broadcast. A few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of them can hold a candle to us. Even our own party let's out an "Ahh!" as they show us coming out of the Remake Center.<br>"Whose idea was the hand-holding?" asks Kukaku.  
>"Ishidas," says Jackie.<br>"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," says Kukaku. "Verynice."  
>Rebellion? I have to think about that one a moment. But when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist, as if the Games had already begun, I know what Kukaku means. Presenting ourselves not adversaries but as friends has distinguished us as much as the fiery costumes.<br>"Tommorow moring is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it,"  
>- chapter five is short because I'm trying to keep up with the book. The first chapter were completely uncannon, so...<br>Character Profiles  
>Rukia Kuchiki (Continued)-<br>- she young for her age but also old for her age  
>-she's difficult to dynamic<p>

Bleach vs Hunger Games:  
>-same: both have districtszones that are poorer regions surrounding the richer center region separated by walls  
>-same- the inside of the Capitolseireitei are both like mazes of a city with rich buildings and people.


End file.
